She pulled her robe around herself as she opened one of the doors for Sylas. He appeared to have climbed up the branches of a willow to get there, leaves still in his dark hair. “Evening.” His grin gleamed bright in the moonlight. “You couldn’t sleep, either, huh?”
She had half a mind to shut the door and let him climb back down. “What on earth are you thinking? You can’t be here!”
Despite his size, he was graceful as a feline, not making so much as a noise as he slipped past her and into the room. “I saw from below that you had a candle lit, and your shadow kept pacing across the glass. I wanted to check that you were all right.”
This boy would be her ruin if they weren’t careful, though Signa had to admit that her blood rushed a little quicker with the thrill of a late-night visit. She didn’t even necessarily mind that she wore only a robe over her nightgown, more curious about what he might think of it and what reaction she might get than embarrassed. Sure enough, Sylas’s eyes lingered upon her body for a beat too long when he thought she wasn’t looking, and he quickly cleared his throat and turned his attention to the ceiling when she turned back. Signa tried not to grin, warm with satisfaction.
“I’m as well as one can be, knowing my cousin is still as ill as the day I met her.” She folded her arms across her chest and resumed her pacing. “If you’re going to be in here, keep your voice down and tell me whether you’ve found anything useful.”
“Hardly.” He took a seat on her floor, leaning back against the wall. “I looked through the kitchen and the servants’ quarters but couldn’t find anything incriminating.”
She feared as much, but hearing it aloud made it all the more aggravating. She ran her hands through her hair, tugging at the ends. “We must find something to help her. I hear there’s a library in Thorn Grove, and I’d like to check it to see if I might find an antidote. Something herbal, to ward off poison.”
“Poison?” he echoed, brows lifting. “That’s a new development. I suppose if there’s a chance to find anything about that, your best bet truly would be the library. It’s massive.”
“You know where it is, then?” Signa grabbed Sylas by the arm and hauled him to his feet. “Could you take me there?”
“Right now? In the middle of the night? Dressed like that?” When Signa didn’t let go, he grinned and said, “How scandalous you are, Miss Farrow. If you insist, then follow me at once.”
He led the way out into the hall. The walk up to the third story was achingly slow. Signa took each step with the utmost caution, bunching her nightgown in her fist so that she wouldn’t trip over the long hem. She trailed behind him, finding it odd that a stable boy knew the house so well. Then again, Sylas hadn’t always been a stable boy. Perhaps whatever job he’d had while Lillian was still alive allowed him occasional time in the massive estate. She made a note to ask him about it—later, though. Once they’d found something to help Blythe.
For now she asked, “Do you come here often?” her curiosity besting her.
“I’ve only had the opportunity to tour the house a few times.” He walked with a confident ease, appearing far less worried about them being discovered than she was. “The staff have spoken of it enough, though. They don’t journey up here much if they can avoid it, and even then they come only in the day.”
Elaine had said the library was thought to be haunted, and if the staff went to such lengths to avoid it, Signa hated to imagine the spirit that awaited them inside. For years she’d avoided spirits, though if it was possible this one knew anything about Thorn Grove or Lillian’s murder, it was too much of a lead to pass up. But with Sylas here, she’d no idea how that was feasible.
“You should leave once I’m there,” she told him. “Nothing good will come of us being seen together.”
He cast her an irritated look over his shoulder. “Two sets of eyes are better than one, and besides, even if I’m fired, you said yourself that I’d be taken care of.”
She tried not to roll her eyes, for while he might be safe, she certainly wasn’t. And the last thing she wanted was to have to hire Sylas if he ended up being responsible for any wild rumors or allegations about her. Still, he had a point. Death’s warning was nothing to scoff at, and if she wanted to save Blythe, having Sylas’s help was worth the risk.
The library was easier to find than she’d expected. Two oak doors with heavy brass handles led to a tremendous room with towering mahogany shelves stuffed full of books. There were rows upon rows of them, and in the center of the space were writing desks and plush leather reading chairs that looked comfortable enough to spend a day in. The room was lit by windows that bathed the room in pale starlight. Bright enough to see shapes and the vastness of the library but too dark to read the titles of the books.
Signa breathed in the musty scent of old parchment and ink. “We’ll need to find a light.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth before a candle upon one of the desks lit itself.
She made no move to grab it immediately and instead looked at Sylas, nervous he would run. He opened his mouth only to clamp it shut again. There wasn’t a single excuse to explain a flame igniting of its own accord, and neither of them tried to offer one.
“Well.” Signa cleared her throat. “At least we know all that talk of a spirit wasn’t just a rumor.”
Sylas’s brows were to his hairline, yet all things considered, he was handling this remarkably well. Probably, she imagined, for her sake. “At least whatever’s in here doesn’t appear to be malicious?”
At least not yet, Signa thought as she squinted through the shadows, wondering where the spirit might be hiding. It was unnerving that she hadn’t seen the spirit so far. She’d spent years ignoring them, hiding and pretending not to see, and she certainly didn’t favor having the tables turned.
Sylas picked up the candle. “So we’re looking for books on… botany?”
“Yes. Preferably something that discusses the medicinal uses of plants.”
Across the library, a shadow whipped through the darkness, and Signa realized it was a book only after she’d stumbled into Sylas, biting back a yelp. It came from many rows ahead of them, and when the two of them simply stood there, another book flew from the same shelf.
Setting one hand on her waist to steady her, Sylas held the candle ahead of them.
Signa squinted through the glow of the flame. “Do you think…”
“I do,” Sylas said, voice flat. He started toward the shelf the books had flown from, stopping to hover the candlelight over one that had been thrown. It was a thick leather-bound book on botany.
They turned the corner to another row of bookcases, and Signa seized Sylas by the arm, fear catching her breath as she saw who was helping them. The spirit was an older man with translucent blue skin, a full white beard, and spectacles that sat low upon his wide nose. Seeing that Signa had noticed him, he stood a little straighter.
“Are you all right?” Sylas asked her, steadying the candle. The spirit watched it with deep concern, and when it looked as though it might tip from its holder, he hurried to press a glowing finger against its side to steady it.